“And I am sunburnt,” Beatrice says; she thinks
the Prince is making fun of her, or worse,
he’s looking to indulge his princely kinks
with Leonato’s niece. She’d laugh, or curse–
what does he think he’s doing, sitting here,
and talking like her brother or her friend?
Though sharp-eyed she can spot no frown nor sneer,
a flip remark will bring this to an end.
But “Wouldst thou have me, lady?” and she gapes
for just a second; can’t have heard that right.
A joke, then, but a gentle one, in case;
offending him would only cause a fight.
She wants someone to match her wit for wit;
Whoever might be, Pedro isn’t it.